


Opa's Secret Sauce

by RaeSone99



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Post 3x04, Speculation, excited about 3x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2546453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeSone99/pseuds/RaeSone99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Arrow takes the night off and receives an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opa's Secret Sauce

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during the summer so as a heads up Sara's still alive!  
> Also I own neither the characters nor the universe of Arrow.

It was a rare night off for the original trio. With Sara back in town Oliver had taken the time to give Roy a full night of patrolling with her. When Roy gaped at the eldest Queen, Oliver simply clapped him on the shoulder and said,

“Think of it as an internship.”

Apparently Roy hadn’t been 100% convinced when Sara pledged to do her best not to kill him. Scout’s honor.

“Is this because I teased you about Ray making heart eyes at Felicity the other night? Because if so I take it back! Seriously!”

Oliver’s jaw muscle spasmed and Roy quickly back pedaled,

“I mean, training with your league of assassins ex who wanted to kill me once…yay,” he finished weakly.

Oliver watched Sara saunter up behind Roy undetected, new bow staff in hand and couldn't help the terse smile that spread across his face.

“You look a little pale Roy. Don’t worry, I hear the girl scouts take their honor very seriously. By the way you should duck.”

Confusion ran across Roy’s face as Oliver turned and walked away.

“What? OW! Blondie that hurt! OW! Uncle! Or Aunt or whatever just stop hitting me!”

To say he didn’t replay Roy getting whacked in the back all the way to Felicity’s place would have been a lie and Oliver Queen had never been much of a liar.

 

 --------

Donna Peralta-Smoak paused for a gasp of air outside of her daughter’s door. The trek from the train station had not been kind. But boy had it felt good to slam the door in that cabbies face when he told her what she’d have to do to get a ride to Felicity’s address.

“No way lady, I’d hafta go through the Glades to get to that place. Ain’t no cabbie taking you there. You’d stand a better chance of waving a hanky and getting an escort form the Arrow himself. The Green one mind you not the Red one. Course for a certain price…”

The leer on his face left little doubt what that price might be and Donna had slammed the door in outrage. She may’ve been born and bred in Vegas but she was nothing if not a class act. Unfortunately the other three cab drivers had expressed similar sentiments.

“Through the Glades? Ha! The Arrow’s own grandmudda couldn’t get through there. And I mean the green one!”

“Look lady, you’d be better off taking the bus and those haven’t been running since the earthquake.”

“Yeah yeah I know where that is! You just take the 101 in someone else’s cab! No way I’m going back there. Not after I woke up with an arrow in my chest and an orange and black mask on my face!”

She’d jerked back from the door she’d been leaning against. Orange and black masks? Earthquakes? And cupid in leather? What kind of place was this! Sighing she slipped off her heels, thankfully it was still warm at night. Plugging Felicity’s address into her phone she began to walk. Time for that gym membership to pay off.

 

\--------

Felicity cooed over the baby nestled in Diggle’s muscular arms: Sara Grace Diggle.

“And when you get older Auntie Felicity will teach you why a 540 hwz core processor runs better than the 1220 jlx core processor! Yes I will!” Felicity shook the baby duck toy just out of reach of Sara Grace’s grasping chubby fists before leaning in to kiss her on one chubby cheek.

Diggle smirked, “You might want to wait until she can talk before you start up with the computer stuff Felicity."  
He paused to loosen Grace’s grip on Felicity’s glasses. The blond sent him a grateful look.

“No way, it’s like my mom used to say ‘It’s never too early to start thinking about those sorts of things’. I promise if she were here right now she’d be grilling you about which college she’s going to."

Diggle froze in horror, clearly not ready to think of his baby girl at the age of eighteen. Felicity grinned at him before continuing;

“Besides I want her first word to be something awesome! Can you say terabyte?” They both chuckled when Sara Grace gave Felicity a cute gurgle in her throat.

Soft home sounds ruled as they took a moment to revel in the gift of normalcy. The computer hummed quietly in the background, the TV murmured sweet nothings for short payments of $12.99, the ceiling fan whirred effortlessly, and Oliver let loose a long angry streak of what sounded like Mandarin.

Diggle looked at Felicity skeptically, “You know that man can’t cook right?”

Felicity waggled her eyebrows at a sleepy Sara Grace, “What?  Of course he can. He was on an island for five-ish years. He had to eat somehow and I don’t think Amanda Waller had chef service in Hong Kong.”

“Felicity,” she glanced up to see an expression that was equal parts amused and pitying.

“Hmm?”

“Lyla and I had him over and he offered to cook the meat and veggies once…Seared,” he paused for emphasis, “everything.” Felicity opened her mouth but Dig continued, “And before you defend him remember, five years catching animals and fish and eating over an open flame.”

As if to punctuate Diggle’s point more Mandarin crashed through the kitchen, then,

“Um…Felicity?”

The disbelief on Felicity’s face made Diggle laugh, waking up Sara Grace briefly.

“I just left him to stir the sauce,” she hissed.

“The sauce is supposed to be on high, right?” Oliver called, followed by a yelp and what sounded like Russian.

The blood drained from Felicity’s face, “I left him alone with the sauce,” she amended, eyes wide.

“Felicity!” the beginnings of smoke wafted into the living room and under their noses.

Diggle watched her amused as the color returned full force. At the same time the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get the door?” Diggle offered, shifting Grace so she wouldn’t wake up. Felicity gave him a grateful smile of thanks before dashing to the kitchen, threats on her lips.

“Oliver Queen! That is my Opa’s recipe! His secret recipe, which, by the way, I’m out of ingredients for! You had one job! Please tell me you didn’t…” her words became muffled as she entered the kitchen. Diggle made an adoring face at Sara. They’d sort it out.  Besides the security detail he had posted around the house had identified a blonde female with heels in her hand as an exhausted looking Donna Peralta-Smoak about five minutes ago.  And he’d yet to tell Felicity. He thought she deserved a pleasant surprise. Kissing his daughter on the forehead he took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

\-------

Growing up in Vegas Felicity had seen a lot of things. There were the fights, the lights the dancers, the gamblers, the Elvis impersonators, the Cher impersonators, the Elvis-Cher impersonators… Even now she worked with Arrow, Canary, Arsenal, Diggle and occasionally the Flash to take down villains.  She wasn’t even sure she _could_ be shocked by the mundane anymore. But nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting in her kitchen.  It was as though Jackson Pollock had discovered the color red and decided her sparkling rarely used kitchen was his canvas. Felicity’s mouth formed a pink ‘O’ as she observed Oliver. He had a paper towel in one hand, a wooden spoon clenched in the other, and he was desperately trying to wipe the sauce off of her refrigerator. Finally he gave it up when the paper towel was more red than white and he dropped it in her trash can on top of a heap of others. Ever so slowly he turned to face her, shame all over his body language and when he lifted his eyes to meet hers the apprehension was clear. They stared at each other for a moment.

Suddenly, Felicity was hit with an image of an eight year old Oliver waiting to be scolded by Raisa for stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. Her lips twitched and next thing she knew she was holding her sides, gasping for air as the laughter poured out of her. He simply looked so solemn.  Oliver stared at her alarmed at first, then insulted, and then amused as a definite smile settled on his face. Finally, when she’d calmed down some she managed to ask,

“Are you okay?”

 He nodded and she moved to the stove, shut the eye off and grabbed the last paper towel, chuckling all the while. He eyed her warily measuring the grin plastered across her face to his past experiences involving him, women and kitchens. Laurel would have been yelling at him which would have led to a fight and him storming out. Raisa would be scolding him and…Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Calm down Oliver, I’m not Sara, I’m not going to sneak attack you.” Oliver visibly relaxed and a giggle escaped her lips as she pulled a stool out from her table.

“Here, sit. You’ve got sauce all over your face.”

Oliver dutifully sat, watching her face as she started wiping away sauce form his hairline. Her other hand came up to his chin to tilt his head this way and that. His eyes closed. Felicity stared at him, her movements slowing. Oliver Queen was pliant in her hands, his face tranquil, and his manner almost serene. His stubble was prickly against her fingertips; oddly enough his skin was soft and smooth.  She wondered if the island had rejuvenating properties as she wiped the last of the sauce off.

“Actually it did. Not that you’d need it. You’ve got great skin Felicity.”

His words brushed across her neck and she swallowed back twin surges of grief and desire. There was nothing more she wanted, socially, than nights like tonight, with Diggle and Sara Grace and this man, who crafted jewelry, spoke multiple languages, didn’t fear needles or heights and who didn’t know how to turn a stove eye on low. Her stomach knotted. Why did he have to be so stubborn?  Feeling her tense Oliver opened his eyes. Everything about him was soft just like that night… Felicity looked away and turned her back on the memory of the man she loved murmuring, “…Maybe not ever.” Somewhere her mother was laughing. She could practically hear her… except it sounded so real...too real… The part of her brain that only activated for knives and needles woke up and with it adrenaline and reality. Oliver stood up suddenly, toppling the stool and towering over her protectively, any trace of softness gone as he eyed the kitchen for the threat.

“Felicity, what’s wrong?” his hand touched her shoulder cautiously, sensing that anything else would break their silent détente.  

 “My mother’s here.”

 -------------

When pressed, Donna Peralta-Smoak would admit that she and her daughter had a strained relationship on a good day, and a non-existent one on a bad day. A lot of their conversations featured phrases like ‘…won’t turn out like you…’, and ‘I sacrificed everything!’ or ‘can’t even spare on lousy phone call…’ and ‘my dating life is none of your business.” None of which were the healthy sort of phrases she’d heard on Dr. Phil or Montel back in the day. She’d also admit it’d been a while since she’d sat and watched TV. She had a business to run after all. However somewhere deep inside she’d been sure her 1-2 emails per year estranged daughter would have told her she’d a) settled down b) married and c) had at least one kid. Yet here she was on her daughter’s front porch staring at possibly the most beautiful man alive holding a tiny pink bundle of joy. A duck binky was clutched in the little girls’ fist.

 _Grandmother_. The word resounded through her very being.

“She’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Tall, dark, and handsome’s chest puffed out, revealing him as the proud father he was.

“Thank you,” he smiled. He had a nice smile Donna thought. Boy had Felicity hit the jackpot with this one. Just wait until she told Francine! Greeted at the door by her son-in-law and granddaughter! That would top Francine’s story about her son Gerald the firefighter for sure!

“Oh! Where are my manners? Donna Peralta-Smoak, Peralta for the first husband, Smoak for the last.”

Buff and beautiful shook her hand, “John Diggle,” he hesitated and then added, “People call me Digg.”

“Well considering we’re family now, I suppose I will too!” She smiled broadly at him. Digg frowned confused, before his face cleared, “Oh no, Felicity and I are just friends. This is my and my ex-wife’s daughter.”

Donna felt as though the rug had been pulled from under her feet.

“So you’re not my son in law then?”

“No. But Felicity’s a great friend of mine and now that I’ve met you I can see why.”

Donna smiled, allowing herself to be charmed.

“Ah well you’re probably the closest I’m going to get to a son-in-law. May I come in?”

She followed Diggle into the house, thankful that the man had corrected her immediately; otherwise she might’ve embarrassed herself. Felicity already thought she was flighty as it stood.

 -------

Oliver peeked through the kitchen door. Sure enough the older, slightly blonder version of Felicity was in her living room chatting with John like they were old friends. Oliver poked his head back in the kitchen to face one agitated and pacing Felicity. He watched her for a moment secretly enjoying the reversal. Usually he was the one stressed and upset and she the voice of calm and reason.

“She looks like your big sister,” he commented just to draw her attention. He knew next to nothing about her family, and while he was curious as to why she wasn’t happy to see her mother he was excited about the prospect of childhood stories about Felicity.

Felicity scoffed, “Don’t tell _her_ that. There are only two things that woman cares about, her looks and her love life. Well three: her looks, her love life and my love life.”

Oliver felt something uneasy on his stomach and it must’ve leaked into his voice because she stopped and stared at him after he spoke,

“So she falls in love a lot. What’s wrong with that?”

Felicity crossed over to him, careful not to slip in the spaghetti sauce, the desire to be there for him transcending the past month. Placing both hands on either side of his neck she stared into his eyes, her face softening, “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love”, a note of steel entered her voice, “But I am only getting married once.”

He nodded and she blushed and stepped away from him, “Not that I’m, you, we’re planning on getting married to each other, or even to other people. Although if you were you’d tell me right?” She shook her head in self-admonition. “Don’t answer that.”

Oliver grinned, “I’ve never been married and the second I propose you’ll be the first to know. Now,” he caught one of her hands in his, ignoring her wide eyes, “Let’s go meet your mother.”

 -----

Diggle quickly established an easy rapport with Donna. She was a sharp woman and took things in stride. When asked what he did for a living he responded that he worked security for Oliver Queen. Unlike some she didn’t look impressed or overawed.

“Oh yeah, I've seen him on the magazines at the checkout line. He’s broken a lot of girls’ hearts.”

When he asked her what she did for a living she was fairly light hearted.

“I run a matchmaking service. Mind you it hasn’t worked for me! But I’ve seen quite a few couples make it.”

 He was even prepared when she asked him which college he wanted Sara Grace to go to.

“Stanford. That way I can keep track of her.”

  
“That’s good,” she said, “start them off while they’re young.” She withdrew some, “Sure wish that’s what my mama would’ve done for me.”

Digg wasn’t sure what to say so he smiled at Grace to give Donna some privacy. After a few seconds he looked up to see her scanning the room.

 “Where _is_ Felicity?”

At that moment a cheerful Oliver Queen and a cautious Felicity Smoak breezed into the living room. Having never had a daughter before Diggle had only assumed the older ladies, and mothers and fathers who’d shake their heads were being close-minded and judgmental about Oliver but now, even imagining his daughter falling in love with and then quickly having her heart broken by, some fast talking rich playboy made him want to punch Oliver simply on principle. So he had an idea exactly how unimpressed Felicity’s mother was when she saw the pair holding hands.

Donna had turned the same shade of pink Felicity did when things clicked, and not in a good way. Felicity seeing the tension crossed her arms. Oliver’s hand sliding to her lower back didn’t help matters either. Oliver ignored Diggle’s signal not to speak and held out his hand to introduce himself, armed with his best charming smile, “Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.” Donna gave him a glare worthy of the Arrow, “I know who you are Mr. Queen.”

Oliver retracted his hand after a cold moment.

Diggle shifted uneasily and Sara Grace seeming able to sense the change frowned.

“Maybe we should sit down,” he suggested.

That seemed to do the trick. He and Donna sat on one side. Oliver and Felicity sat on the other.

Donna pursed her lips, glanced at Sara Grace and seemed to make a decision.

“I’m sorry Mr. Queen, that was rude of me,” gone was the angry mother and in her place the polite businesswoman, “I must still be tired from that walk through the Glades. Not a single cab driver would bring me here.”

Felicity bristled, hearing an implied critique, but seemed to decide to decide that if her mother was willing to try she was too.

“I apologize mom. If I’d known you were going to drop by I would’ve had Oliver send a car or something,” the Oliver in question nodded, apparently having gotten Diggle’s message: the best Oliver in this situation was a silent Oliver. Both of the ladies sounded stiff and formal as though anything more personal would destroy their fragile truce. Felicity, usually forthright was burning a hole in the wall just to the left of her mother’s head.

There was another awkward pause and Diggle sighed. This was supposed to be his day off spent with his two friends and showing off Sara Grace while Lyla was away. Instead he felt like he was in a western. The quicker they ate the better.

“So is the pasta done?”

Oliver and Felicity froze.

“Oh were you all about to eat?” Donna looked around quickly. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt I just, I just hadn’t seen you in a while.” Even Diggle could tell this was a lie but Felicity simply nodded.

“It’s okay. We were just making Opa’s special sauce when there was an accident.” She seemed to smile faintly. Oliver it seemed was unable to stay quiet, “It was my fault. I was supposed to stir but I got impatient and next thing I knew it um…” he looked to Felicity for help. There was a definite smile on her face now as she stared at him, “exploded…everywhere.”

The adoration on their faces was clear and Diggle knew Donna had seen it when she stood abruptly, disapproval radiating off of her in waves.

“Well, I’ll just make some more. Which way to the kitchen?” Oliver stood as well.

“I’ll show you,” he began to smile but Donna shook her head.  “That’s okay Mr. Queen, I’d prefer it if John did.” Diggle stood up ignoring the exasperated look Oliver threw him. He noticed Felicity didn’t move a muscle.

As he followed Donna into the kitchen he could hear Oliver ask, “What's going on between…” The kitchen door closed, shutting off the rest of their conversation.

 -------

Though John was taken aback the kitchen didn’t seem to faze Donna. Neither the overturned stool nor the half clean refrigerator door. As soon as the door clicked shut she sighed heavily.

“I’m exhausted, d’you mind cooking? I’ll hold Grace.”

Diggle hesitated but decided he wouldn’t be writing any parenting books soon either; he let assassins hold his baby. There was probably a warning about that in a parenthood book somewhere, right after ‘don’t let your child chew small parts’. Besides this woman had raised Felicity, she must’ve gotten something right.  Gently he placed the baby in Donna’s arms. Donna glanced at him with tears in her eyes. Clearly feeling his decision to trust her despite of what he’d just seen.

“I can’t say I’m much for cooking,” he admitted, “I’m more of a Big Belly Burger man myself.”

Donna smiled down at Grace, “Neither am I. This recipe is from when Felicity was five. I was 21 and just figuring out I didn’t have all the answers.” She sounded resigned but shook herself out of it.

“Clean pot, heat on three, and if I’m correct and Felicity still organizes grocery the way she used to there’s an unopened jar of Ragu in the back corner of her cabinets covered with good intentions.”

Diggle smirked as he pulled down the tomato sauce and wiped the dust off of the lid.

“Pour into it into the pot, grab some pepper, probably on the counter and put in two teaspoons, stir, and that’s it. Then keep stirring slowly until it’s all mixed in and that, my handsome ex-son in law is Opa’s secret recipe.”

Diggle shook his head in disbelief, “Do you know how much time Felicity’s spent trying to figure out the secret? She spent a good two days at work this week printing out sauce recipes.”

Donna smiled sheepishly, “Actually it’s been more like years. I kept meaning to tell her when she was young but it meant so much to her and it was the one thing she respected me for. I couldn’t bear to fail her in that too.” Donna ran her hand over her hair, definitely a Felicity habit. Diggle stirred the sauce and watched as Donna smoothed the fuzz on Grace’s head.

“Opa’s secret sauce,” she murmured mournfully. Dig turned off the eye and crossed his arms, giving Donna his most even stare.

“Why’d you really come all this way? And why didn’t you call ahead? I’m sure Felicity would have arranged something.”

 Felicity’s mother sighed.

“My father died last night, her Opa. She adored him. I thought it would be better to tell her in person but,” she waved a hand towards the door, “there’s too much broken between us... I made a lot of mistakes raising Felicity. A lot of which could have been avoided had I simply listened… I tried to turn her into someone she wasn’t and,” She looked up and stared Diggle straight in the eye, “there was some major fallout. Tonight’s the first time we’ve spoken face to face in years. I didn’t call because I knew she wouldn’t answer. I know she hates that I only ask her about her dating life but that’s just because I need to know someone who loves her will be there in case her past came back knocking. She seems to have everything else under control.”

Diggle crossed his arms, “She’s got people. She’s got us.”

In the silence Diggle could hear Oliver and Felicity arguing. Even through the door he could hear Oliver slipping into his Arrow voice. He knew Felicity’s mother heard it when she sighed.  

“Guess that’s my cue.”

Donna rose gently and handed Sara Grace to Diggle carefully,

“Bye dear.” Grace stretched in response before nuzzling into her father and Donna smiled.  “I’m going to go now. I should have just emailed.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Turning a wry smile his way she said, “I just told you the best of my secrets Digg. It’s up to you what you do with them.”

 She quickly pecked him on the cheek and headed out the kitchen door. He heard Oliver growl, “You need to leave,” and without looking Diggle knew Oliver had positioned himself between Donna and Felicity. The front door slammed and Diggle made a decision as he heard Oliver’s livid footsteps march his way.

With seconds to decide he threw the Ragu jar away.

Oliver brushed the door open, his mouth turned down at the corners before he opened it to speak when Diggle cut him off.

“Felicity’s Opa is dead.”

 ----------------

There were two things Donna Peralta-Smoak knew. One was that she was getting out of town the way she came: By walking and then by train. Two was that despite what the cabbies thought she’d almost been robbed six times total walking through the Glades and each time she’d been protected by an arrow. A red one. The sixth time she’d stopped and knowing he was somewhere nearby she called out, “I know there’s a lot of love for green in this town but you’ll always have my thanks and respect Red…for what it’s worth.”

 

Roy grinned at Canary across the rooftops. She simply rolled her eyes, “yeah, yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I know it was long :P


End file.
